Cristina and Jason’s NoHo apartment is a beautiful loft with exposed brick and visible ductwork along the ceiling. Plush rugs and contemporary artwork make the space feel homey even with the industrial atmosphere. The place would be perfect except Cristina swears a stowaway mouse lives in the radiators. She hasn’t spotted her tiny, non-rent-paying roommate yet, but those guys can be unavoidable in an old building like this.
“Now, what’s with all the ‘send help’ messages?” I ask, leaning forward to rip open the bakery bag that’s separating us from our cheesy bread goodness. “Did Jason’s work people still not RSVP? Did the florist finally send over the centerpiece sample?”
I glance around the apartment but see no trace of the human-sized purple orchid centerpieces that are going to grace all forty tables at the reception.
“No, no centerpieces as of yet,” Cristina says. “I have to talk to you about something else.”
Her voice sounds calm but I also catch the uncertainty. I sit back, giving her my full attention. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay with Jason?”
“No. I mean, yes, he’s fine. I’m just a little stressed at the moment and I need you to help center me.”
“Okay, but remember you’re less than a week away from your wedding. Stress is normal.”
“This is not normal. Guess who’s moving in with us for the next six days—what could be considered the most important six days of our lives.”
“I don’t know,” I answer after hesitating. “Jason’s mom?”
“Oh, god, don’t even joke about that! Jason’s mom is encamped at the Four Seasons and would happily remain there for the rest of her natural life. No, I’m referring to your boy toy, Ryan.”
I hate to say it, but the mere mention of Ryan’s name is enough to make my whole body tense. “Ryan is moving in with you? Why?”
“Oh, this is a great story,” Cristina says, laughing without the slightest trace of humor. “Ryan is staying with us because he was kicked out of his hotel. Apparently, he brought his dog with him, because of course people do that when they’re attending out-of-town weddings, and the dog trashed the room while we were at Butter last night.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “He left his dog in the hotel alone?”
“No, Jason’s other genius groomsman, Beau, was supposed to watch him but decided to go meet up with one of my friends from work. A guest made a noise complaint so the manager went in, and you can imagine what happened from there.”
“And now Ryan and his dog are moving in with you?”
“That is correct. Beau is loaded, so he got his own room at a different hotel that doesn’t allow dogs, and Ryan is staying here. Jason thinks it won’t be a big deal and feels bad because any hotel Ryan books now will be ridiculously expensive. I offered to pay for it myself but eventually caved because some lunatic started a rumor that you’re supposed to compromise in relationships.”
I’m about to come up with a comforting response when Cristina’s apartment door swings open, banging against the wall. We crane our necks to look behind the couch and in walks Jason, followed by Ryan, followed by one slightly overweight bulldog.
Cristina turns back to me and takes a deep breath in through her nose. “I’m going to have a panic attack.”
“No, you’re not,” I say quickly and quietly, getting up from the couch. “Hey, guys!” I cross the room with a friendly smile, and it almost falters when Ryan openly grimaces at me. I consider vampire hissing back at him in response, but then figure one of us should act like an adult. I do my best to ignore him as I squat down in front of his canine better half, who’s now pulling excitedly against his leash, trying to get to me.
Ryan’s dog has bristly white fur with wide caramel patches, and I instantly want to pick him up and cuddle him even though he has to be north of fifty pounds. I scratch all over his head and neck, triggering him to stomp his foot in rapid succession against the floor and to bring his face very close to mine. His big, dark eyes tell me that if I stop petting him, he might die. Melodramatic and possibly eats too much. This dog gets me.
I stand up to reach Ryan’s eye-level, asking, “What’s his name?”
“Duke,” he answers, like he’d rather not tell me.
“Hey, Kara!” Jason is now wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he turns us around. Cristina glares at him from the couch and he nudges his chin in her direction, leaning in close to me. “Have you talked her off the ledge yet?”
“You need to tread lightly, my friend,” she snaps back at him. “I’m still not sure if I’m speaking to you. Kindly leave the room.”
“Guess not.” Jason pats the side of my arm and makes his way into the kitchen as Cristina turns back around in a huff, facing away. I’m drinking in the whole sorry scene with regret when a twisted idea comes to mind. An idea that can possibly save Cristina and my career in one fell swoop if I’m unhinged enough to do it. My eyes shift to Ryan, who is now retreating into Jason’s office as my inner confidence meets with riotous doubt and fear. Then I stop thinking altogether.
“Everyone,” I call out. “I have a thought. How about Ryan and Duke stay at my place until the wedding?”
A general silence falls over the room.
“Do you mean it?” Cristina asks, almost whispering.
“No,” Ryan answers quickly. “No, it’s all right. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” I assure him.
